White Day
by Tintinnabula
Summary: A Valentine's Day story, sort of. One shot. Kakasaku, lemon. My smuttiest work yet-- please note the rating.


_Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto, not me. No profit will be made, or is intended to be made from this work of fiction._

White Day

Darkness fell quickly as Sakura hurried home from the hospital, avoiding her normal straightforward route through the town's center. She took the rooftops, instead, choosing those lining poorly-lit and sparsely inhabited side streets. She had no desire to see the couples that were sure to be milling around the square this evening, dining in the several romantic restaurants that lined the village's busiest street, or walking hand in hand through the blossom-filled park. In fact, she'd asked for a double shift that evening, just to avoid the possibility.

Tsunade had turned her down, however, after looking shrewdly at her protégé for several seconds.

"You've pulled three doubles this week, and two the week before. You've been here more than I have this past month. If I didn't know you better, Sakura, I'd say you're hiding from something."

She'd sent her home then, without allowing for the slightest remonstration. It would do her good, her shishou said, to get some rest. She'd further informed Sakura that she was quite mistaken if she thought the hospital could not run without her, before cursorily dismissing her.

So Sakura came home to a lonely, messy apartment, intending to spend the evening pampering herself. She had a mountain of laundry to do, as well as dirty dishes in the sink, but Sakura decided they could wait. She'd have too much time to mope if she spent her evening on those tasks. She needed a distraction, she decided. She'd pulled out the bottle of champagne she'd purchased on a whim several months before, put on some soft music, and picked up the numerous take out boxes and other evidence of a life lived with unnecessary haste. Satisfied that the place was tidy enough, if not actually clean, she settled herself in a warm, deep bubble bath, magazine in dampened hand, and mud mask thickly applied.

The mask, like most of the unopened beauty paraphernalia that cluttered Sakura's linen closet, had been Ino's idea. On their last mission together, she'd convinced her sometime rival to purchase the ridiculously expensive clay, which was advertised as Earth's rarest substance. Sakura had rolled her eyes, and remarked snarkily that she was sure that the clay was not made of platinum, gold, or ground-up gems, but due to the combination of Ino's pressure and the sales girl's enthusiasm, she'd finally relented. The tube of overpriced goo had sat in her bathroom cabinet for the past month, however, as Sakura lately had no time to pamper herself. But that had been intentional—there seemed to be no point in doing so.

Tonight would be different, though. She'd searched her bedroom for the bottle of nail lacquer that best described her current mood—acid green—located pumice stone, sliced cucumber and bath salts and had hunkered down in her makeshift spa, intent on forgetting the purpose of this day, and the holiday twenty eight days prior.

Valentine's Day had been a fiasco, a humiliation she'd relived daily for the past month. Early that morning, she'd found Kakashi sitting in his favorite café, sipping green tea as he usually did, fully engrossed in what appeared to be a mission report. She'd greeted him brightly, though nervously, and had completely missed the signal that just then might not be the best time to approach him.

He'd looked up at her with uncharacteristic irritation, and she'd responded by quickly setting the gift she'd made for him on top of the opened report.

He'd frowned as he examined the gift, and then her, his gaze sharp with insight. The gift was handmade, and as Sakura was nowhere near as gifted in the kitchen as in the clinic, the fruits that sat upon the plain glass plate looked a bit homely. The dark chocolate enrobing them wasn't as glossy as on the store bought ones she'd purchased (and immediately devoured) the last time she was in Suna, but as she firmly believed that it was the thought that counted in gift giving, she'd convinced herself that the chocolate-dipped fruits' lack of beauty really didn't matter. It would taste good, after all. She'd hoped so, anyway.

Besides, this was meant to be a romantic gesture, a clear message to Kakashi that her feelings had evolved. It had taken her a while to work up the courage to make this statement. The last boy she'd thrown herself at was Sasuke, and that definitely had not worked out as planned. But that had been years ago, and unlike the Uchiha at that time, Kakashi wasn't a boy. He was a man, a strong, almost terrifyingly attractive man who had the amazing ability to befuddle her usually razor sharp mind. She could barely breathe when she was around him, and his every word, every movement replayed itself in her mind once she was alone.

She had it bad, much worse than the hormone-enraged obsessiveness she'd experienced when in the throes of her first love. Unlike her feelings for Sasuke, these were based in reality. She had no delusions when it came to the copy ninja's flaws: she knew him far too well. Strangely, however, she'd found herself smiling at the same personality traits and peculiar habits she found irritating in others. In Kakashi, they seemed charming, not infantile or selfish or perverted. They were part of what made him who he was. She had no desire to change him, or mold him, or do any of the things suggested in the women's magazines she sometimes read. Love didn't work that way, she'd learned the hard way.

She'd become aware of her feelings for the copy nin six months previously, though they had been growing within her, she now realized, for at least a year or two. The pair had begun to spend more time together once she reached jounin status. This was of her doing, in part. He'd invited her frequently to train with him, but saddled with the persistent feelings of inferiority that had dogged her since her genin days, she'd refused him until she thought she'd arrived, finally, at something approaching his level of competence.

They'd gotten along splendidly once they did come together, and Sakura found herself learning more from him, informally, than she'd ever learned as his student. She also found herself learning _about_ him, as he slowly revealed himself to her. They sparred once a week, assuming he was in town, and ended each session with a picnic or hike. She'd bring a book along, as he was never without his own, and they'd spend the afternoon reading or quietly talking about life's less important matters.

He'd never given her any overt signals that he might be interested in her. He'd never tried to kiss her, and had never even taken her hand, apart from the times when rough or slippery terrain warranted it. But somehow, she had gotten the feeling, a strong, certain feeling, that he felt the same about her as she did about him. He spent time with her, which was unusual for a man as solitary as he. Apart from occasional bizarre, and on his part, seemingly unwanted interactions with Gai, she was his sole companion. That had to mean something, she'd thought.

He'd crushed her, though, in the café she'd vowed never to step foot in again. It took only two ridiculously short sentences for him to excise her heart and stomp it carelessly under the heel of his sandal.

"I'm allergic to strawberries. I thought you knew."

The expression on his face was even worse. Though it was still sometimes hard to get a read on him, Sakura was sure she saw a deflating mixture of disdain and amusement flicker across his visible eye.

She had rushed to make the best of a difficult situation.

"I didn't realize. I'm sorry. It doesn't matter, though. It's just giri choco. I'll just give it to Naruto." She'd blinked several times, then picked up the plate and hurried to a nearby trash bin. "You know what? I'm sure they weren't any good." She'd then tipped the plate's contents into the trash, and impulsively followed them with the dish itself.

She'd rushed out the side door, without even a glance in his direction, and had worked hard to stay out of his path in the days since. He'd stopped by her office, she knew, several times, but as a senior medic she shared a receptionist, who, she'd soon learned, was very skilled at turning away unwanted visitors.

She had nothing to say to him, after all. She'd been wrong, dead wrong about his feelings. A lame apology on his part would do nothing to soothe the humiliation she felt.

The good thing about working in a hospital was the never ending supply of work. It provided, if not solace, distraction. There was a steady stream of patients to see, and after hours there were files to update, case logs to write, even bandages to roll, should she run out of medic-level tasks. Though it was made of barren concrete block and often reeked of sadness, the hospital was her second home and a comforting place in which to lick her wounds.

It sucked that Tsunade had thrown her out today, Sakura thought as she pulled thin cucumber slices from her eyes. She roughly pumiced her feet, then lifted them out of the tub, reaching over its side for a towel to dry them off. Satisfied with her efforts, she separated each toe from its neighbors with a cotton ball or two, then carefully applied the polish that so perfectly matched her mood. She felt green, though not with envy. The nail lacquer was the color of bile, the nasty green one horked up after exhausting the contents of one's stomach. Although it was usually her favorite color, tonight it seemed to be the color of ugliness, and a perfect manifestation of her mood.

She didn't bother with her fingernails. They'd be chipped the next day, given the number of times she washed her hands at the clinic, and besides, it would be hard to tell if she'd scrubbed adequately were her nails covered in green. She rested her feet on the side of the tub, intent on a short nap while the water was still warm, but sat up immediately when she heard her doorbell ring.

It was at least ten p.m. No one else would bother her at this time, apart from Naruto. She clumsily propelled herself out of the tub, toweled off and fastened her favorite pink chenille robe around her, then used a wet cloth to wipe the clay from her face. She hobbled to the front door, yelling out as she did so.

"What do you want, Naruto? Don't you have any sense of boundaries?"

She opened the door partially, blocking it with her body. There was no way she was going to invite her loudmouthed friend in this evening. His natural ebullience would be too much to take on an evening custom made for sulking.

"My throat's a bit sore. I was wondering if you might take a look."

Kakashi?

Sakura pulled her robe more tightly around her, suddenly quite aware of its ragged cuffs and overall grubbiness. She consoled herself with the thought that at least she wasn't wearing her bunny slippers. They were truly a sight to behold, as one was blind and the other missing half its stuffing. The fur on each was a matching, yet unsavory shade of pinkish grey, as well. Sakura ran her hands over her own pink hair, undoing the sloppy ponytail she'd made before climbing into the bath, then looked up to address him.

"It's late."

"I'm sorry. I tried to see you at the clinic today, but you were busy."

"There are plenty of other medics."

"That's true." He stood on her doorstep expectantly, and finally, she stepped aside so that he could enter. One thing she'd learned about the copy ninja was that he almost never took no for an answer. He was as obstinate as an elephant when he wanted to be.

He set the bundled coat he carried on a chair, prompting Sakura to look at him quizzically.

"If you actually wore that coat, you'd be less likely to get sick."

"I've heard that."

She reached for the coat, only to have him swat her hand aside. "Don't trouble yourself. It's fine." He glanced around the disorganized room. "Besides, I have a feeling your closets are filled to overflowing."

She tried her hardest not to glower at him, instead pasting on the smile she used with difficult patients. "Well, make yourself comfortable. I'll just get dressed."

"Why?"

"Why bother?" he might as well have asked. His characteristically terse comment said it all. It didn't matter a whit to him how she dressed. Apparently she wasn't worth noticing.

"I'll just get my bag." She turned to exit the room, but froze in place as she heard his soft chuckle. She turned and regarded him with poorly concealed irritation.

"Sakura, why are you walking like a duck?"

"Oh." She blushed. "Pedicure." She leaned down to remove the cotton separating her toes, clutching her robe to herself as she did so.

She then high tailed it to her bedroom, where she did her best to smooth out her hair into something resembling a hairstyle. Despite Kakashi's obvious lack of interest, she had her pride. She had no intention of bringing up her Valentine's gift to him, but she was loathe to let him see how affected she had been by his response. She frowned as she looked in the mirror. The large, metal clips she'd used to pull back stray strands had crimped her hair in several places, and she found that no matter how much she combed it, her hair would not cooperate. She breathed a small, defeated sigh, then grabbed the only clean garment hanging in her closet—an olive green, too-short, two piece dress that Ino had nagged her into buying. She hoped it wasn't inappropriate—she'd questioned its suitability when she'd first bought it. Ino of course, had felt quite differently. She'd practically forced the garment on her friend, telling her that this was one of her colors. And as Ino did know about those sorts of things, Sakura had acquiesced. She now shrugged on the garment and glued a smile into place. She'd be damned, she decided, before she let Kakashi's indifference affect her. Looking good was the best revenge, after all. Besides, the dress suited her mood. It was, she noticed, a good match for the bilious green color she'd painted her toenails.

She glimpsed herself in the mirror as she left the room. The top was cut lower than she would normally wear, but was not, she hoped, sleazy. It closed with a row of tiny hooks down its front, and though Ino had suggested it would be most flattering to leave at least its top half unfastened, Sakura disregarded this advice, securing herself as tightly as a monastic. The shirt ended just above the hips, and the skirt picked up a few centimeters below, showing a ribbon of skin, and more, of course, should she stretch or bend. She looked nice, she thought, despite her bare legs, and it was difficult to tell she was without undergarments (which was not at all her fault-- with her schedule she had not had time to do laundry, and unlike a certain blond, hygiene-challenged friend, wearing dirty ones was completely out of the question). But as long as she stood or sat like a lady he would never notice. Not that he'd be there long, anyway. Sakura made one more swipe at her hair, and decided that she looked as though she'd survived a freak wind storm. But what did it matter, anyway? Kakashi was obviously here for free medical services. Mooching was a key attribute of his character, after all. She should be flattered, she guessed, that he thought her worth seeking out, but she found she couldn't muster that particular emotion.

He turned as she entered the living room, and her mouth opened slightly as she realized he had removed his mask.

"It would be hard for you to take a look, otherwise," he responded to her unvoiced question.

"Right." She realized she was blushing. The long-established rumor was that he was quite attractive, but the man standing before her was more than that. He was downright gorgeous. As he quirked his eyebrow in evident curiosity at her prolonged stare, she realized the hooded gaze she was so used to was missing, as well. Kakashi looked at her with an eye that was fully open and as dark and sparkling as obsidian. The usual ennui-filled stare was gone.

She'd never noticed how long his lashes were before, either.

_Stop it, Sakura. Just do your job, and do it quickly._

"Sit here. The light's better." The kunoichi looked around the room with the eyes of a first time visitor and frowned at what she saw.

"Just a minute." She picked up the overflowing basket of dirty laundry that sat on the kotatsu. "I'll be right back—I apologize for this." At least the room wasn't still littered with ramen cups.

Kakashi reached down to pick up a small, striped garment that had fallen from the basket.

"Shimapan? Nice."

"Get your hands off my underwear." She felt the heat rising to her cheeks and was sure that she must be red as a beet by now. "Hentai," she muttered as she hurriedly left the room to dump off her belongings. She returned to find Kakashi sitting peacefully where she'd left him, a small but blissful smile on his face. His expression undoubtedly had something to do with thoughts of striped panties.

"Move closer to the light," she said harshly, her tone a response to his expression, as well as to her inner self's nagging. The copy ninja obliged, opening his mouth on cue and making whatever vocalizations his medic called for. His scent intoxicated her, though this was not a new sensation. She always felt slightly inebriated around him. She felt the warmth radiating from him, and inhaled the spicy fragrance that she knew was his own, unadulterated scent. Could he tell that her heart was racing, the way it usually did when their bodies were this close together? She silently urged herself to pull it together. It was obvious he wasn't here for anything other than a quick checkup.

"Tilt your head back a bit more—you know, your throat seems perfectly fine." She palpated the lymph nodes in his neck, noting that they were exactly the size they should be. No redness to his throat, and no swelling either, she thought, as she ran her fingers along his neck to press against the small node found at his nape. She was surprised, and jumped slightly when she felt his hand cover her own.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"Not at all." His hand remained in place, and she looked at him with suspicion.

"What exactly are your symptoms?"

"Throat's a bit scratchy." He shrugged indifferently.

She turned and looked at him as though he were crazy. The man who avoided hospitals like the plague and medics like its vector was visiting her for a tickle in his throat? He'd never even been to her place before: their interaction had always been outside, preferably in a woodland setting. But here he was. What was his objective? She sighed. Like all men, Kakashi was probably a creature of habit. He'd probably noticed something was missing in the course of the past month, and this was his way of putting things right. He was probably completely oblivious to the fact that he'd hurt her.

She really should throw him out. But she knew if she did so it would involve either yelling or tears on her part, and she realized she didn't have the stomach for it.

"Well, as long as you're here, I'll make you some tea with honey and lemon. That usually does the trick. Make yourself comfortable."

"That would be nice." He didn't stay put, however. Instead he followed her into the narrow galley kitchen that adjoined her living room and stood beside her as she filled the electric kettle and replaced it on the counter.

"Where are the cups?" he asked, then leaned across her to reach the cabinet she indicated. He brushed against her back as she did so, and Sakura found herself unable to move out of his way, cornered as she was between her former teacher and the stove. She exhaled slowly as she realized she'd been holding her breath.

"There's—there's really not room in here for two. Why don't you wait in the living room?"

"Is there anything to eat?" He reached across her again, this time for the small plates that matched the cups he'd acquired. His hand rested for a moment on her shoulder, and she felt such an intensity of sensation that she wondered if he were somehow burning her.

"I'm sorry. The fridge is empty-- I haven't been home much this month."

"I figured as much."

"You did?" Had he really stopped by to see her?

"I assume your place isn't usually this trashed. It doesn't seem like you."

She felt a too-familiar warmth creeping into her cheeks again.

"Work keeps me busy."

"_Very_ busy."

"It's nice to be needed."

"It is."

Sakura turned away, and stood on tiptoe to reach the tray she stored atop the refrigerator. "I think there might be some cookies in the cabinet above the stove—why don't you check? I can't guarantee they're not stale, though." She was sure she felt his eyes on her. Her free hand slid down slowly to pull at the hem of her dress, which had ridden up slightly. There was no need to give him an eyeful. He might not be interested in her, but he was nonetheless a pervert.

"I'm pretty easy to please." He slid past her, this time managing to rub against her derriere. She quickly stepped aside, and willed herself to focus not on the strange feeling of anticipation his accidental touch elicited in her, but on the mundane task of assembling their impromptu tea.

Cookies in hand, Kakashi turned away from the stove and frowned as his eye alighted on the ice bucket she'd set near the fridge earlier that evening. A green bottle protruded, its cork neatly wrapped in a wire cage, an unmistakable sign of its contents.

"I didn't realize you were expecting company."

"What?"

"I didn't mean to keep you." He moved past her again, this time easily maintaining his distance. "I'll be on my way. Sorry for disturbing you."

"You didn't. I'm not."

He turned around, surprised, perhaps by the urgency in her voice.

"I'm sure this sounds ridiculous, and I know it's pathetic to drink alone, but I was planning on pampering myself this evening. It's been a rough month." She looked at her feet as she gathered the courage to look him in the eyes, noticing with a frown that she had smudged her polish. "If you think you're healthy enough--"

_What are you thinking, Sakura?_

"I love champagne." His eye crinkled in the smile she knew only by that sign, and she noticed for the first time the twin dimples that she knew would make any request he made impossible to refuse. "I hear it's wonderful with strawberries." Her eyes must have communicated the hurt this last remark evoked, because he quickly grabbed her hand. "I owe you an apology. Can we sit down and talk about it?"

She handed him the tray. "Tea first—we need to take care of your throat, don't we? I'll be just a moment."

She took a deep breath as she composed herself.

_Why did you do that? You should have let him leave. "I hear it's wonderful with strawberries." The man's a callous jerk. Either that, or he's taunting you._

For once, she found herself agreeing with her inner self. He was likely to offer some lame, flippant excuse for his behavior, and she realized that she didn't want to hear it. Things couldn't go back to the way they'd been. Though she could certainly pretend that she hadn't worn her feelings so openly, she didn't want to. She didn't want to forget it had happened, and she was sure that he would suggest that she do so.

So where did that leave her?

She'd listen to him, she decided. She'd agree with the suggestion she knew was coming: that they not screw up the good thing they had going. In fact, she'd beat him to the punch. She'd pretend her gift had no hidden meaning, and, if necessary, she'd promise to remain as good a friend as she'd ever been, despite this slight misstep on her part. They'd hug and make up, and then, slowly, very slowly, she'd allow their friendship to wither. She wouldn't be able to handle it, otherwise. Not now that her feelings were clear to her.

She joined him in the living room, tucked her legs under the kotatsu, and picked up a cup of tea he'd already poured.

"I owe you an apology, but for the life of me, I haven't been able to find you this past month."

"You haven't done anything to apologize for. Really." She put on her best smile, and tried hard to make it seem sincere.

"I was rude last month, when you gave me those beautiful chocolates."

"It's not rude to be _allergic_. And it's something I do every year. All the kunoichi do—it's tradition to give chocolate to the men in your life. You know that." Sakura hoped that he was buying it. It _was_ true that in previous years, she'd always given him a small box of Apollo chocolates. She'd done the same for Naruto, Sai, and Sasuke when they'd been around as well. The tiny pink and brown cones were hardly a gift of the same caliber as hand dipped strawberries, though they had been the same flavor. Kakashi, she remembered, had always smiled when she gave them to her, though he never opened the box to sample it. He'd simply placed them in his kunai pouch and went about his business. Why hadn't he mentioned his allergy to her years ago? The answer was clear: because the gesture hadn't meant anything to him. He'd probably tossed the box in the nearest trash bin once she'd left.

Sakura's temper finally flared, and it was all she could do to keep from slugging him. "Baka. Why didn't you tell me years ago that you're allergic to strawberries?"

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings. Besides, I get presents so infrequently that I didn't want to mess up a good thing. And Naruto appreciated them, you know. They're his favorite—he calls them 'geisha nipples.'"

Sakura smiled, despite herself. It was unlike Naruto to keep his mouth shut, especially for several years, but it was so very like him not to pass up an opportunity for free food, Sakura reflected. And it was even more like him to give an ordinary candy a name that would make the ero sennin proud.

"You made them yourself, didn't you?"

"Yes. You could tell, huh?" She smiled wryly. Here was a not-so-subtle hint that she shouldn't abandon her career in medicine.

"None of the confectionaries here sell them. Or bakeries."

He'd checked? That surprised her.

"It was a beautiful gesture, Sakura, and I'm sorry I ruined it. I was--."

"Why are you making such a big deal of this? It was nothing, really. Just obligation chocolate-- giri choco. Please. Let's drop it." She searched anxiously for another topic. "This is a special occasion, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"I mean, I've never seen your face before." He hadn't replaced the mask. Its soft, silk knit fabric was still hung loosely at his neck.

"There's a first time for everything."

"It's a stupid holiday, anyway."

_So much for changing the subject, Sakura._

"The result of a conspiracy of chocolatiers, no doubt." Kakashi smiled. "So it's always been giri-choco, huh? I'll bet that gets expensive, considering the number of men you work with."

Sakura nodded.

"Never honmei choco? Not even for Sasuke?"

"No. You're the only—" she stopped in mid-sentence. "No."

"More tea?" He filled her cup, then gazed at her as she lifted the steaming beverage to her lips.

"Why are you staring at me?" The beverage splashed as she returned the cup to its saucer.

"You have something on your face." Kakashi licked his thumb and ran it along the apple of her cheek.

Sakura's mind flashed on an image of her mother doing almost the same thing with a saliva-moistened handkerchief. Of course, she thought, any similarity ended right there. That action had been slightly revolting. This, on the other hand, was…

Kakashi moved his thumb to his mouth and licked the digit again. A dimpled smile spread across his face.

"Clay? You haven't been making mud pies, have you?"

"Arrgh! Why didn't you tell me I had mud on my face?" She ran to the bathroom, and was slightly mollified, upon looking in the mirror, to find that he'd removed the last vestige of her beauty treatment.

_That's not why you ran away, though, is it?_

Sakura sat on the edge of the tub. What was going on? Was he playing with her?

_Maybe this is about you, not him. Are you afraid? Is that why you ran out of the café_

She shrugged with annoyance as she ran the faucets in an attempt to make it seem like she'd been using her bathroom for its intended function, rather than a haven for her cowardice. Stupid inner voice—when had she become so insightful?

_You asked him to stay. You might as well show the tiniest bit of courage._

A bouquet of pink-blushed phalaenopsis was the first thing she noticed when she returned to the living room, its unusual petals a simulacrum of butterflies in flight.

"I wasn't sure what type of flowers you like, and roses seem a bit, well, done to death. These seemed more like you, anyway."

Her gaze moved to the white box that sat in the center of the kotatsu. It was clear that this was from Konoha's most renowned bakery—the gold seal and ribbons adorning it were unmistakable.

She slid the package toward her, but had difficulty pulling the organza ribbon that held it closed. Her hand was shaking slightly, she realized.

This wasn't at all what she'd expected. No wonder he'd acted so strangely when she'd asked for his coat, bundling it on a chair, instead.

She lifted the lid of the box to reveal the dessert inside. "Cherry cheesecake? I love cherries." The delight in her voice was impossible to hide.

"Why am I not surprised by that, Sakura-chan?"

"And you're not allergic?"

"To cherries?" He smiled as though greatly amused. "They're my absolute favorite."

"Really." She'd never once seen him eating that fruit in all the time they'd spent together.

"I can't get enough when they're in season, and I crave them when I'm without."

A small smile lit Sakura's face. "You've never struck me as a man of passion, Hatake Kakashi."

"Maybe you don't know me well enough."

"Sometimes I think I don't know you at all."

Kakashi picked up the knife he'd somehow acquired during her last bathroom visit, and pulled the cake toward him. "Shall I cut you a slice?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead piling a large portion of the rich dessert onto a plate.

"There's a slight problem. I don't own any forks."

"This will do." He picked up the spoon he'd used to stir honey into his tea, and lifted a generous serving of the dessert to Sakura's mouth. Her eyes closed as she softly groaned with pleasure.

"It's good."

"I can tell."

She opened her eyes to regard the man sitting so close by. His intentions couldn't be more clear if he'd posted them on a billboard. But still she had to ask. She could not afford to be wrong again.

"What is it that you want, Kakashi?"

He looked into her eyes solemnly, then slowly smiled.

"You."

"Me?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm in love with you."

She bit her lip. "I don't understand. Why did you--?" She was interrupted by his kiss. It wasn't urgent, overwrought or sloppy, like some she'd experienced in the past. It was gentle, yet confident, assured but without bravado. And it felt absolutely incredible. It lasted only moments, however, and as he moved away from her, she felt almost cheated.

"I made a mistake. I'm not a morning person, and I was up all night putting together that report. But you didn't deserve it. Will you forgive me?"

She answered with her own kiss, hers much more forceful than his had been. But he quickly took control, simultaneously frustrating and delighting her as he kissed her over and over, releasing and then rejoining his embrace. Sakura felt herself melting as she relaxed into the arms that had wrapped themselves around her. She might as well be in heaven, she thought fleetingly. And yet she wanted so much more. She sighed as she lightly bit her lower lip, and shuddered as he followed this action with a soft caress of his tongue. She found herself eager to take this kiss further, but again was stymied by his pace. He was slow and deliberate, almost teasing in his embrace. She should have known he'd be a master at the art of eroticism. This simple kiss evoked more than she'd ever felt with another.

He broke the kiss, finally, and displayed his dimples once more as he smiled mischievously. "It does taste good." He picked up another small portion of cake, this time in his fingers, and offered it to her. She greedily accepted, then scooped up the deep red cherries topping the cake and offered them to him.

He closed his eyes as he licked her syrup-soaked fingers clean, and she realized that she'd been right when she'd joked that she hardly knew him. Here was a man who knew how to live in the moment. He wanted her—she'd been so wrong to infer otherwise—and now that he was about to have her, she could see that he planned to savor every moment of their time together. That was as it should be. As shinobi their lives could be forfeit at any time. But it was easy to forget this, and concern oneself not with the details of this very moment, but with things that might never happen. But he lived his life differently, and again Sakura realized there was much he could teach her. She'd never experienced the attentions of someone as completely and utterly focused on the present as he was.

She'd always known he wasn't a clock watcher (did he even own one?), but now she understood why. What good was it to love another, or make love to another, if one was worrying about the future, whether five years or five minutes from now? What good was any action if you weren't there to experience it? In thinking of the future, one lost the present, and she realized _this_ present was one she did not want to miss—

"Be with me, Sakura. You intellectualize too much."

"I shouldn't _think_?"

"I want all of you—your full attention. Save the philosophizing for another time."

She laughed for the first time that evening—no, for the first time in a month. "You know me too well."

"No, not nearly as well as I'd like to."

He pulled her into his lap, and smirked as her skirt hiked up her thigh.

"You made me jealous tonight. That's hard to do, you know." She looked at him quizzically. "I was wondering just which man was lucky enough to not only share a glass of champagne with you, but to deserve to see you in the outfit you're wearing."

"This? It was the only thing left in my closet. " Apparently Ino had been right. Green _was_ her color.

"Actually, I mean what you're _not_ wearing." He laughed as she went scarlet. "I knew right away that you weren't wearing a bra—you're a bit more bouncy than usual—but the panties… at first I thought you were wearing a thong."

"Frotteur! You are a complete hentai."

She felt him shrug. "We all have our flaws."

"That's why you rubbed against me in the kitchen? To satisfy your jealous curiosity?"

"Well, that wasn't the only reason." He slid his hand under her top and caressed her breast, eliciting a small gasp of pleasure from her. "But I'm okay, now, in case you're wondering. The convenience more than makes up for any misunderstanding." She arched her back against him as he expertly teased each nipple and sighed again as he nuzzled her neck. With his free hand he gently spread her legs apart and ran his hand along the soft, fine flesh of her inner thighs.

"I can't tell you how long I've been wanting to do this."

"Mmm. How long?"

"That's classified. If I did tell you, you'd call me a hentai again. Or worse." He moved his hand higher, easily parting her folds, to plunge a finger into her wetness. She gasped, then squirmed against him as he rhythmically moved inside of her, and cried out as his thumb located the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex.

"You're driving me crazy."

"Already?"

"Make love to me, Kakashi."

"I am."

"That's not what I mean," she almost growled.

"You're quite demanding. Nice to see that side of you." He continued his ministrations, rolling her hardened, sensitized nipple between the fingers of one hand as he stroked her clit with the other. She bucked against him as she climaxed fitfully, almost oblivious to his purred words of satisfaction.

"Thirsty?" she heard him ask as she came back to herself. She opened her eyes to see him uncorking the champagne that he'd set on the nearby kotatsu.

"Let me get some glasses." She tried to rise, but found herself unable to do so, as his hand moved quickly to grip her firmly at the waist.

"No need." He kissed her again, pressing gently against her as he did so, to guide her into a supine position. "Mind if I take this off?" He expertly unfastened the many hooks running down the front of her shirt, and smiled as she shrugged the garment off. She lifted her hips to help him with the skirt, which he slid slowly down her hips. It was obvious he relished the task of undressing her, as again, he gave it his full attention.

She saw his obsidian eye rake over her newly naked form, and found herself pleased to see the look of appreciation there.

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined." She heard a note of lust in his voice she'd never noticed before. "Open your mouth." She obliged, lifting her head slightly as he poured a trickle of champagne into her mouth. "My turn," he continued. "Lie still." She tried not to giggle as a stream of champagne pooled around her navel. This was difficult, as the champagne was ice cold and her flesh quite ticklish. As he licked the bubbly beverage away, she found herself both laughing and moaning. He moved his lips along the lower edge of her ribcage, scolding her when she giggled, then moved north to caress her breasts with his expert tongue. He poured more of the amber liquid on each half globe, then sucked and licked them clean.

"I have to say they go well together."

"Hmm?" He was quite a talker, it seemed.

"Champagne and cherries." Kakashi ran his fingertips along her side, pausing as he reached the fullness of her hips, then changed direction. "Spread your legs for me," he said huskily. She felt no embarrassment at exposing herself fully to him, no vulnerability. His talented tongue stroked and caressed her, urging her wordlessly to a second climax. Her thighs tightened around him as she came, and came again, as he showed no willingness to let her rest.

"Please," she said finally. She ran her fingers through his satin silver hair, and smiled shyly at him as he lifted his face to answer her.

"Sorry. I'm not quite finished, yet."

"Bastard!" She grabbed him, pulling him upwards until he was prone atop her, and tugged vigorously at his vest. "Lose this. Now."

He slipped the jacket off, then slowly lifted his shirt over his head. Sakura's eyes widened in appreciation as she admired the catlike grace with which he moved. As task as mundane as removing a shirt—something patients did in her presence daily—was completely erotic when done by this man. The tautness of his muscles under skin crisscrossed by scars new and old, their rippling movement as he stretched to pull off the shirt: all of this mesmerized her, the image quickly burning itself into her mind. He sat up, kneeling between her legs as she reached for the waistband of his pants, and she nearly laughed aloud as she realized the difficulty his erection presented. She freed him, finally, from the confines of his garment, eyes widening as she did so.

He was big. Not freakishly so, but definitely on the far right side of the bell curve.

He noticed her poorly concealed look of surprise and spoke gently.

"Do I frighten you?"

"Of course not. I'm a medic. It's just that…"

"What?"

"Well, I'm glad I'm not a virgin."

"I almost wish you were. I wish I'd had your cherry."

"Here." She scooped up a fruit from the nearby cheesecake, and offered her fingers to him. He quickly licked them clean, but affected a frown when he finished.

"Somehow, it's just not the same."

"Lie down," she commanded as she gently pushed him onto his back, spreading his legs to kneel between them. She lowered her head and inhaled the wholly masculine, musky fragrance his organ presented. Her lips caressed the head of his member, her tongue flickering over its surface and along his shaft. She moved slowly at first, using the tip of her tongue to trace the contours of his anatomy, then focused her efforts on the parts she knew to be most sensitive. She then engulfed him with the wetness of her mouth, eliciting from the copy ninja a strangled groan she found quite satisfying. She took him more deeply inside of her, earning another moan, and an incredulous look as she glanced upwards to lock eyes with him.

"You'd better stop…soon."

She giggled at the thought of him losing control and at her newfound power over him. She kept her eyes trained on his as she held him like a lollipop, slowly running her tongue along his glans, then gently sucking him. It had the effect she'd hoped for.

"Stop."

"Did I hurt you?" she asked in her most innocent voice, only to find herself expertly flipped to lie under him.

"Don't tease me," he growled, before claiming her lips with his own.

"But I wasn't finished."

He laughed. "_I'm_ going to finish." He quickly penetrated her, and Sakura gasped in surprise at the feeling of fullness this brought with it. This was different than what she'd experienced with others, not that she was that experienced. But the few times she'd been with a man had been oddly unsatisfying, leaving her to wonder if she'd missed something important.

Kakashi was different. With each slow movement inside her she felt a deep-seated sensation building, a slow winding of a spring that promised an explosive burst of energy upon its release. He was practiced, artful in his attentions, a master at the art of pleasure.

"How does that feel?" he asked huskily.

"You have to ask?"

"Am I hurting you?" She realized he was limiting the depth of his penetration, cautious of the difference in their anatomy—she petite, he anything but.

"No. I want more. I want you to fill me up." She felt his hips slam against her as he plunged into her and she moved her legs to encircle his neck to allow him greater access. He pistoned himself inside of her and she moved in time to his inexorable rhythm, grinding her hips against him as she urged him deeper inside of herself. He shifted his weight onto to one arm, moving his free hand to caress the nerve center buried within her folds and she cried out in delight and despair as he brought her to orgasm.

"Come for me, Sakura. Let go."

She did, as she screamed his name again and again. But she found she hadn't reached a final release. As he moved faster within her she felt a wave of sensation grow to tsunami-like proportions. She rode this crashing tide, aware of her own body's reactions, as well as his—from the sweat which dripped from his brow, to the look of absolute bliss he displayed, to the groan of complete satisfaction that grew within him as he reached his long-sought summit.

He cried out her name, and she his, and they collapsed against each other.

"Sakura," he said minutes later, in a voice hoarse from exertion. "I have a confession to make."

"What is it?" She eyed him warily.

"I don't think I've ever experienced anything like that before."

"Oh?"

"You realize I'm not going to be able to let you go."

"Who said I wanted you to?"

"You're stuck with me."

"I could think of far worse punishments."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her leisurely.

"Kakashi?"

"Hmm?"

"I have a confession to make."

"What is it?"

"I'm in love with you."

"I know. I've known for a while. Though I think I fell in love with you first."

"Happy White Day, Kakashi."

"Happy Valentine's, Sakura."


End file.
